She would rather the girls had been more indignant than that they had laughed so much.
"I'll never write another line again," she resolved; and then she thought of the binding she had always intended to have on her first published book, and wept harder.
"Ulyth," said the Cuckoo, stealing in rather shamefacedly, "I'm really frightfully sorry if you're riled.

I didn't know you cared all that much about those old papers.

I told Addie, as a joke, and she went and poked them out.

I think they were fine.

It was a shame to burn them.